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2013.07.28 - Challenge Accepted
'William Bard' had been vanishing from Madripoor lately, on 'business'. Oh, it wasn't as though it were odd, as he'd usually come back with information on the latest weapons sales, dutifully repeated. And yet, a lot of these 'disappearances' always seemed to time with 'emergencies' elsewhere. A blown up village here, a rescue there. At least -this- time, 'Bard' was at a nearby gun range in Madripoor. Partly to discuss things with the owner in a weapons purchase discussion, and partly just to shoot. -BLAM BLAM BLAM- As usual with Roy, his target was just about dead on. Several stalls down the hollering went from a simple cry, boo, jeer, or hiss, so a more violent ruckus. One of sporting challenge, much akin to the kind of rally cries you'd find at a bowling alley in a game between leagues. But these few men were narrowing down in numbers, and the target is reloaded and sent further out on a line as a large man in the black fatigues steps up and takes aim. *BLAM* "And he says I 'could do better'. Tha' fuck is that? Looks like a bullseye to me...!" The stalls dividing wall bore a black clad silhouette that slipped from her perch one serpentine appendage at a time. The heel of armored boot meeting the ground followed by another as she approaches to stand behind the man and tug her glasses down the bridge of her nose, looking out at the target with a squint before shoving them back up on their perch with a fingertip. "It's not dead center. Taskmaster's still right." Standing beside the now chided and corrected 'soldier' Baroness looks down several stalls towards Bard, a half cocked grin curling up over dark stained lips. "Once William gets time n his busy schedule, perhaps he can show you." Said loud enough to be heard but not to yell even over the intermittent gunfire. As his target practice comes to an end, 'Bard' turns back towards the range owner. "Not bad. I like it," he comments, handing over the weapon to the other man. "I'll let her know that this cargo's worth it." Cocking his head down the corridor towards the Baroness, Roy flashes a grin as the woman mentions his 'name' as it were. "Coming, your excellency!" Roy's green eyes twinkle in amusement as he uses the proper formal address for a baroness. Coming up, the redheaded man flashes a cocky crooked half-grin as he tilts his head towards the stall. "What's up?" he says, eyeing the target. "Still haven't adjusted for the recoil, soldier? Oh, and by the way, your excellency, the weapon demo checked out. You gonna buy them or what?" Hearing his address for her one dark and manicured brow rises over the rim of glasses, amusement is somewhere there though it is as foreboding as the slow and lazy smile that crosses the Baroness' lips. "Did you check it on moving targets and rapid fire?" So /that's/ what the smile is about, no, not wholly his greeting, of course something -else- is going on in that head of hers and the laughter as well as chiding tones of the men there start to slowly silent like a cricket chirp in the jungle of predators when the biggest one wakes.. "Which ones scored the lowest?" Baroness asks the large man who had last shot to have him step aside, as well as several others like a line stepping back to leave two standing in the lead for a volunteering of something they never wanted to agree to. Looking at Bard now she takes another weapon from the tray and checks it, pulling the clip as well as popping the chamber before loading it back together and clicking off the safety. "Pick one." "Against what was available here," Roy drawls. "Now if you want to take it out to a field test, we can arrange that, your excellency." Oh, there -were- those people who would still hunt the most dangerous game in the jungle, just solely to test their wits and courage, and as much as when the biggest predator awakens in the jungle, there would always be one who would willingly test oneself against the most dangerous... Glancing towards the lowest scoring men, Roy tilts his head. "Seems like a waste, actually," the man drawls, bringing his hand up to still Baroness from doing what she wants to. "I have a better idea." His lips curl up in a challenge. At Roy stating he has a better idea Baroness shifts in her stance and leans against a post of the stall's divider, one hand extending out to limply hold the gun as she gestures while speaking. "By all means /Bard/. They may be shitty shots but they are good at the art of duck and cover." In saying as much Baroness just smirks at the two who stare dead ahead, the only signs they did not desire the inevitable coming from an eye tic, or a flex of the throat in a swallow. "Do tell, because I am not satisfied until it is show to be optimal in what I need it for." "Oh, I just had a simpler idea. It seems like a waste of resources to just kill the ones who don't score well," 'Bard' drawls. "I'm pretty sure we could motivate them better than fear of failure. Why don't we make a wager, your excellency?" Jerking a thumb at one of them, Roy comments, "You teach one. I teach the other. Whoever scores better... well, if yours win, the matter's settled as to who's not better. And if mine wins..." "... The matter's settled as to who is better." She finishes that sentence for him, though her eyes remain omnipresent on Roy in that lingering scale of weights, balances, life, and death. "though i don't recall wagering with /you/, just their lives." They just didn't know it yet. Turning she passed the two men who stood there as still as statues and held out the weapon she had clutched, dropping it down in front of him while his hands instinctively came up to catch it. "Fear of failure and death are the best motivators. Enlighten me Ghandi." Baroness states in her own retort of a drawl while one hand rises and a finger trails a nail idly over the curve of the mans neck, her elbow propped on his shoulder. Toy soldiers? Only the "broken" ones. "... well, actually, no, it just means that I'd want to take a crack at training the loser too," Roy comments languidly. "Mostly because I happen to think fear of failure and death isn't necessarily the -best- motivator. Now competition... that's a hell of a way to motivate a person too." Quirking an eyebrow at the Baroness, Roy glances at the men. "What do you think, boys?" "I offer them more then just that.." Baroness states with a flippant wave of her hand, though /what/ she does is not said as the one that she rested upon like a lean-to finally cracked a small smirk, but it is barely noticable and just as quickly gone as Bard speaks up, eyes slowly shifting to look at Baroness as if for permission to.. Do anything in regard to the man they did not know. Baroness just stands there and holds both her hands out, palm up, as they rise so does the corner of her lips like invisible drag race flags were held aloft. "Speak up boys." Curious, some suspicious, but all eyes are on Bard now, slowly they nod. If you win, you don't overrule Taskmaster's expertise in areas, you two will have to sort that. Work your Disney Magic." Laughing, Roy nods. Leaning close, whispering for her hearing only, the ginger archer comments, "Aw, that's just for work. Let's make this fun. If I win, we're going to town. And if you win... well, your choice." Pulling back, Roy claps his hands together. "Okay, boys. One of you is going with me, and we'll do a lesson. The other one goes with Baroness, and well... if you're gonna die, at least you're gonna die having spent time with a gorgeous brunette. Just don't get yourself killed before the competition." The one that held the weapon baroness had discarded just before turns and goes with her, though it is reluctant, only shown slightly in a inconspicuous tension. The others dispersed now, no longer part of this dangerous game, clapping hands over their two comrades shoulders in passing. When Roy leans over and whispers to Baroness she casts him a glance and shakes her head, the smile fading to a placid demeanor of apathy, that façade of business taking over. "Your forget who you bargain with." Baroness states, turning towards Roy and one corner of lips rise and fall in a failed attempt at a smirk. "I'll gladly remind you." Game, set, match. The grin doesn't quite leave. "Oh I haven't forgotten, your excellency. But that's -my- motivation, at least. And what have you got to lose? It's not like we'll end up doing anything we haven't done before," Roy comments, as he claps a hand over his trainee's shoulder. "Come on. If we win, I'll get you a date with Domino." Fair point, though not completely correct. Turning from Roy, the Baroness just hands the man a piece of paper, and when he flips it, it is a picture of his family; wife and child. "They are being flown in tonight. They'll be glad to see you. Overjoyed, actually, considering the call they got was of your death." Her tone is one of a harshness, anger, and yet... Amusement. The man is walking with more of a posture now, one of both pride and wariness, never underestimate a sleeping snake. "Let's not make them witness it, hm?" Category:Log